Inkstains
by TheElusiveOllie
Summary: Post-#72. Tim worries about Jay. NOTE: This was written before entry #73 and onward were released. Please note that there are numerous discrepancies.
1. Part I

Jay hadn't moved since they got back to the hotel. This worried Tim.

The guy hadn't made much sense during the car ride back. Tim wouldn't even let him check in to the hotel with him, and only let Jay leave the car when he'd already gotten the camera and their pitifully small duffels into the room first.

Jay had mumbled the occasional unintelligible phrase, but by the time Tim got the hotel room door open, he was out like a light. Tim made sure he collapsed on one of the beds.

That had been hours ago.

Now Tim sat against the bathroom wall, considering his pills. Or rather, staring blankly at the pills without seeing them as he considered what had happened at the house.

Something was wrong with Jay. Now Tim was certain of it. The first time Jay had said someone was standing outside watching them, Tim hadn't thought much of it. He'd believed him, naturally, since this sort of thing was beginning to become rather common with their lifestyle. The second time was unsettling, but nothing to panic immediately about.

And then there was the seizure.

That was what worried Tim the most.

The rocking back and forth, the uncontrollable shivering after and during, the inability to move – all symptoms Tim was well acquainted with. His pills had kept him strong enough for now, but he wasn't sure they'd do much to help Jay, especially since they couldn't even be sure if Jay was having the same..._problems _as Tim.

Tim wanted to take Jay to a doctor _now, _but Jay was hardly in any state to go anywhere, and Tim wasn't certain he would agree to go even if he was. He had been so adamant about not needing help before...

Tim turned his pill bottle over in his hand. Had these helped, or had it been something else? Had that _thing _been careless or had gotten bored with them? How had Tim managed to stave it off, keep it from harming either of them or wiping their memories? Was he somehow getting better?

That line of thought derailed at the clattering sound coming from outside. Was Jay awake, or had he just rolled off the bed? Tim unlocked the bathroom door, sighed, and re-entered the hotel room.

"Jay?"

Tim froze.

"_Jay!"_

He scrambled down on his knees to help his friend.

Tim had no idea how Jay had gotten hold of a pen, nor had he realized Jay even had one on him, but he _knew _this wasn't healthy. This was too..._Alex _for it to be healthy.

It was that symbol, the circle with the X. Jay had somehow scribbled it all over: on the walls, on his hands and arms, even a few on his face. He stared blankly down at the broken, burst pen in his hands, ink stains covering a good deal of the symbols he'd scratched on his arms and hands.

"Jay? Jay, you all right? Hey, talk to me, buddy!"

Jay didn't seem to hear him. Or, at least, he didn't respond. He allowed Tim to snatch the busted pen from his limp fingers. His only reaction to Tim forcibly shaking him was to shift his dull gaze to stare emptily at his friend.

"Jay? Jay, what did you do?"

"Don't know..." His speech was slurred, like he'd just woken up. Tim barely forced down a wave of panic. He held up the pen.

"Where'd you find this?"

"It was in my hand..."

Tim tried shaking Jay again. He didn't seem to be going into another seizure or anything, but he looked like he'd fallen into some sort of trance. His skin was far too pale beneath the black scribbles of ink.

"Come on, Jay, come on, stay with me."

Jay went back to staring numbly at his hands, only to notice the scribbles there, seemingly for the first time.A flicker of panic swelled up in the empty expression. Good. He was waking up or...whatever it was you called it.

"Hey, hey, you okay?"

"Tim?" Jay definitely sounded scared now. He sat rigid, stunned gaze fixed on his hands.

"Come on." Tim was surprised with the ease he was able to lift his friend to his feet and steer him toward the bathroom. Jay hardly struggled, apparently in a state of shock. "We gotta get you cleaned up. You look like the antichrist's coloring book"

Jay offered no resistance as Tim shoved his hands beneath the faucet and turned it on. He barely reacted the rush of cold water, but Tim still took the opportunity to run into the hallway and viciously fling the broken pen into the trash. It might have been lying around in the hotel room, or perhaps – though Tim dreaded to think – something had compelled Jay to use it. Why, he couldn't guess. However, Tim had a fairly certain idea regarding the how, though it wasn't the most desirable situation. Tim had struggled with that sort of thing his whole life; he could only hope Jay could cope with it better than he had if he had someone to help him.

When he returned to the bathroom, the running water hadn't roused him. Jay still seemed frozen with shock, his hands draped limply into the sink. Tim could still see the symbols he'd scrawled all over his skin, fading, but not gone. Just the sight of them, the things that represented everything wrong with their lives, caused a dark, righteous fury to manifest inside Tim. He seized the nearest towel he could find and began helping Jay wash the ink off his arms.

Jay just watched, unblinking, as the inky water swirled down the drain. Tim kept at it, wiping off every single damn symbol he could find. Jay didn't resist in the slightest the entire time; it was clear that he didn't know how to react to any of this.

Tim couldn't blame him. He knew the feeling.

Jay still seemed out of it when all the ink had been washed off, but now he was shaking. Tim feared the worst – another seizure, maybe, or a hallucination – until he realized Jay was soaking wet. Tim wordlessly pulled one of the towels off the rack and handed it to him. The action seemed to jerk Jay back into reality. He met Tim's gaze for the first time, and Tim was relieved to see that he seemed much more lucid than before.

"I gotta..." Jay shrugged and indicated the shower. There were still black runs from the ink on his face.

"Right."

Tim closed the door behind him as he left. Soon he heard the hiss of water. He managed a brief sigh of relief, but the tight fist of panic in his chest didn't fully unclench itself.

Either years of running and hiding from the strangeness of their lives had begun to take their toll on Jay, or something worse was setting in. If he could convince Jay to go to a doctor before it was too late, they might have a chance to stop it before he ended up like Tim.

_Or worse._

Tim immediately dismissed that thought. He wasn't going to let that happen. As soon as Jay was able to walk without assistance, they were going straight to a doctor. Jay was stubborn, but maybe this scare had persuaded him to consider the option.

After scanning the hotel room, Tim quickly went through all the desk drawers and surfaces. There were no other pens to be found, but Tim did find a box cutter in one of the cupboards (why, he couldn't guess), which he pocketed. He definitely didn't want anything sharp lying around, especially while Jay was such a liability.

_Not a liability, _Tim reminded himself abruptly. He shouldn't think of the one person whom he could still consider his friend a liability. Still, he was definitely showing the danger signs of...whatever it was Tim had. He didn't think anyone had a word for it, but he was familiar enough with the symptoms.

Speaking of which...

Tim checked his bottle of medication for the umpteenth time that night. The pills were running low – he'd probably taken more than his normal dosage back at Alex's old house, but he'd been desperate and they had definitely helped stave off that _thing _for much longer than normal. Still, he should replenish now before something else unexpected happened.

"Jay?" Tim rapped on the closed bathroom door. "Jay, I gotta refill my prescription. You gonna be okay?"

Jay made a short noncommittal grunt that could have been mistaken for a yes. Tim vacillated, not wanting to leave his friend alone and have a repeat of the pen incident waiting for him when he returned, but on the other hand, if he didn't fill his pills now...

_I'll be quick._

Tim grabbed his jacket and keys and hurried out of the room, making sure to lock it on his way out, partially because he didn't want anyone getting in. There was still the uncomfortable thought that Tim didn't want Jay getting _out_ either.


	2. Part II

Tim picked up the pills without incident, but it was as he was pulling up to park in front of the hotel that he glimpsed a distinctly familiar beige hooded figure peeking out from behind one of the other parked cars.

Furious, Tim slammed on the brakes and tore out of his car. His pills were clenched in one hand and his keys in the other, but he brandished both as if they were weapons. The hooded man tried to run toward the parking lot exit, but Tim was faster. He tackled the bastard before he'd gotten halfway across the lot, forcing him to the ground. They struggled for a minute, but Tim finally succeeded in hooking his hand under the black frowning mask and ripping it off and...

_...and..._

"_Brian?"_

His old college friend shoved Tim off him and scrambled backward on all fours, the wind clearly knocked out of him. Tim was shocked, but reacted swiftly and instinctively in response; he planted one of his feet firmly on Brian's chest, preventing him from taking off again.

"Brian."

Repeating his name didn't make it any better, that horrible, swooping feeling of betrayal and despair. This was even worse than when he'd gotten on Jay's case about _Marble Hornets._ This was worse than...anything.

_Brian._

Brian, Tim's only friend. Brian, the one who was always ready with a joke or quip to lighten up the situation. Brian, who had introduced Tim to Alex Kralie and Sarah and Seth and Jay and everyone else. Brian, who had made Tim feel like he _belonged _someplace for once in his life.

Brian had done this.

He looked terrible. Gaunt, faded, with dark circles beneath his wild, panicked eyes, hair shaggy and uncombed and flopping in front of his too-pale face. He'd probably been on the run, isolated from everyone else, for as long as Tim and Jay had – if not longer.

Not that it made Tim any more sympathetic.

Thousands of accusations all flew to the ready on the tip of his tongue, but Tim couldn't pick which one was more deserving of attention than the others. He shut his eyes and gritted his teeth, breathing heavily through his nose. He wanted nothing more than to drive his fist into Brian's face again and again until nothing was left, but he knew that wasn't an option. As much as it hurt to admit it, they needed Brian.

Or, more specifically, they needed answers.

Tim's fists, clenched shut over his pill bottle and keys, began to shudder with suppressed fury at the realization. Finally, Tim managed to grind out one desperate, whispered word:

"_Why?"_

Brian didn't seem to have an answer. He only shook his head, breathless. Tim reached down, pills and keys forgotten, grabbed him by the shoulders, and yanked him to his feet, shaking him roughly.

"_WHY?" _Tim snarled.

"I was trying to help!" the other man protested.

"Trying to help? When were you trying to help?" Tim was again overcome with the desire to pound his former friend into oblivion, but he barely fought it down. "When you broke into my house and stole my medication and let me turn into that _thing? _When you had me watch my friends either die or turn into murderers? When you let everything from the past six years happen and never said a word? _When were you trying to help, Brian?"_

"It was the only way I could do it without letting it find you! I couldn't let you just trust me like that, it was too dangerous –"

"It found us anyway, Brian! Jay's hurt and I don't know if anyone can save him this time. All you did was make things worse!"

At the mention of Jay, Brian stilled. "Jay's hurt?"

Tim sensed that Brian's initial reaction to bolt like a frightened deer had died down somewhat, so he gingerly released him. But Tim stood poised to tackle him again if he tried anything.

"Yeah," he answered Brian's question warily. "He started getting a seizure or something while we were looking through Alex's old house."

"Seizure, seizure." Brian moved away and Tim tensed again, but his old friend was just pacing, running his hands through his mop of hair. "This isn't good, Tim, this isn't..." He trailed off for a moment before turning back to face Tim. "He's turning."

"Turning into what?"

"One of us." Brian shook his head as though frustrated with himself. "I should have seen this coming. Of course it would shift priorities, _of course _it would..."

"Brian, what are you talking about?" Tim demanded, though he wasn't sure he would like the answer.

Scratch that, he _knew _he wouldn't like the answer.

"I'm talking about Alex and me and you and everyone." Brian looked like a man possessed, eyes shining with an almost deranged mix of panic and sorrow. "It took Alex first, it turned him into one of its..._puppets, _I dunno, whatever you call it. And then it tried to do the same to us." He moved closer to Tim, who had long since forgotten his urge to beat Brian into a bloody pulp. "But you and me, we went wrong. We didn't get all the way...developed. It gave you a second half like Alex, but it messed up somehow, partway through."

"What do you mean?" Brian knew. He damn well _knew _about these things and he had never once bothered to tell him. Tim swallowed his anger yet again, knowing he needed to hear to this.

"You've got someone – some_thing_ – else living in your head, Tim, but it doesn't follow any orders. It has free will."

"While you, what? Developed an urge to run around in the forest with a video camera and edit weird videos in the dead of the night?"

"I'm more complicated, just like you. But if it's turned its attention to Jay, then there's every chance it could succeed."

"And then what?" Tim didn't like the implications of that sentence. "What happens to Jay?"

"He, uh..." Brian was beginning to look scared again. He finally broke eye contact with his old friend, barely mumbling the last bit. "He..._changes. _Like Alex." Brian didn't need to elaborate. Tim took a step back, struck with a wave of cold terror.

"Come on." Tim grabbed Brian's arm firmly, shooting him a death glare worthy of Alex Kralie. "We gotta go. We gotta check on Jay, _now."_

Brian sincerely looked like he didn't want to, but there was no way in hell Tim was letting him get away again, not with some _serious _explaining to do. He suspected they'd barely grazed the tip of the iceberg, but for once it looked like they would finally be getting some answers. Pausing only to scoop his fallen keys and pills off the ground, Tim began to drag Brian back to his and Jay's room.

The door wasn't locked when Tim tested it. He and Brian exchanged an apprehensive glance mingled with fear before tearing into the room.

"Oh no..." Brian whispered, eyes widening at the sight of the trashed, empty room. Tim pushed roughly past his old friend.

"Jay? _Jay!"_ The bathroom door was open, but Tim checked anyway. He turned to face Brian again, helpless. "He's gone. How...where..."

Brian couldn't seem to find any response. He stood stock still in the open doorway, whispering:

"_Where could he have gone?"_


	3. Part III

Tim gripped the wheel so tightly that his palms ached and his knuckles were white, but he didn't care. Jay was out there somewhere, and he was going to find him if it took all night, all week, all _year. _Not long ago, Jay had done the same for him, full well knowing the risks. Now Tim had to return the favor.

And Tim wasn't going to let his only friend turn into Alex.

Brian sat in the passenger seat, looking uncomfortable and grim, but determined. Tim hated that he needed to trust him to find Jay again, but he was the only one who would know where Jay could have gone – they weren't anywhere near Rosswood Park anymore, so the possible locations were limitless.

The taut silence in the car was broken when Brian suddenly yelped, "Turn here! _Turn here!"_

Tim jerked the steering wheel to the right, wheels skidding across the darkened road. He glared at Brian.

"Warn me next time."

"Right. Sorry."

"Where are we headed, anyway?"

"Don't you remember?"

Tim shot Brian his best don't-you-fucking-dare-you-little-shit-you've-got- a-lot-of-explaining-to-do glower. Brian noticeably cringed a bit.

"The house where I used to live. That's where Jay found you for the first time. It's where he'd go."

"You think heremembers? Even now?"

"Probably, on a subconscious level."

Tim waited for his old friend to elaborate, but he stayed silent. Finally, Tim broke in testily.

_"And?"_

"And…what?"

"Spill. What does all of this _mean?"_

"You think I got any more of a clue than you do?" Brian asked defensively.

"Look, you obviously know way more about this whole business than Jay or I ever could figure out on our own. We've been running in circles for months trying to find answers, and you've had them at your fingertips for who knows how long. You're not really helping your case here."

"I don't know if you've caught on by now, but we've been trying to _help."_

"Yeah, cause stealing my medication and leaving Jay and me in the middle of Rosswood was _real _helpful."

"It got you two to work together, didn't it? Safety in numbers."

Tim only scowled at the road, seething. Learning that him and Jay had only crossed paths because Brian had pulled the strings wasn't doing much to improve his mood.

"We planted the medical records so Jay would give them back to you, help build a little trust," Brian continued. "But he did just the opposite. We should've seen it coming, and making him come after you was the only back-up plan we could think of."

_"We,"_ Tim muttered darkly, half to himself. "Like you're different people or something."

"You don't get it." Brian straightened up in his seat, looking offended. "We _are _different. Sorta. I'm…me and the other me's kind of a…less sane, more cryptic, more liable to run away type version of me. Same with you and, uh…"

"And the _other me?"_ Tim finished wryly.

"You still don't understand? You and me, we're the same but…_different."_

"Oh, gee, that just clears everything _right _up."

"Sometimes things happen with me…_us…_that I can't control either," Brian explained. "And I don't have medication or pills or anything to ground me. I've just barely been keeping one step ahead of Alex, and this kind of lifestyle hasn't afforded me the luxury to getting help. There's someone else living in my head, just like with you, but he knows how to think for himself. The only difference is with me…"

"With you…_what?" _Tim growled, growing tired of Brian's ambiguity.

"With me I remember everything that happens. I'm still _there, _just not in control, and sometimes I can influence things that the…_other me_ does. So we agreed to start working together."

"You can do that?"

"I can. I don't know about you, even though the, uh, other you sort of agreed to work with us too."

"What?"

"You saw the videos. He doesn't much like Alex either. Even if you wanted to stay out of everything, he was willing to help us."

"Could've told me before he agreed to it," Tim grumbled. Part of him was joking bitterly, but the other part was intrigued. If Brian could get his other persona to work with him, could Tim achieve the same? Would he be able to retire the constant flow of medication and doctor's appointments if he could only get through to his other part and tell him that they were on the same side?

Brian's next words discouraged him. "Like I said, we're both different. We both went wrong in different ways. I remember everything that happens, even if I'm not the one doing it, while you…"

"Don't," Tim sighed, abandoning his previous train of thought at the station. He glared out the window to hide his frustration, but he couldn't bottle his curiosity. "Well, sometimes I can. It's like a dream sometimes. You know, like immediately after you wake up some things are fresh in your mind but they don't make sense. And the harder you think on it, the more stuff you remember."

Brian nodded. "Makes sense. You've got a separate persona living in your head, but you share the same body, so some stuff bleeds over."

"Like…why the other me hates Alex so much?"

"You blame him for what happened to you, however subconsciously, and your other half picked up on that. You should."

Tim snapped his head around to face Brian again. "What?"

"Remember the hospital? That's when it happened. Alex attacked us both and left us to be _changed _like he was. It went wrong, but before then, we were both normal. You had a history of this kind of thing, but it was never as serious as losing time. It was only when Alex left us at the hospital that it turned into what it is today." Brian indicated the next intersection. "Turn right again here."

Tim obliged, but his head was buzzing. He had never really questioned _when _the waking up miles from home with lost time had started. He had always assumed it was yet another symptom he had to be wary of. But now, if it was really, truly Alex's fault…

"I'm gonna kill him."

Brian only looked apprehensive.

"Alex?"

"He did this to us, and he's about to do it to Jay too."

"One part of him is. He's not fully in control, not like I am. Not even as much as you are. He's been under this thing's thumb for years. It might have been his fault for looking for it in the first place, but it's not his fault if it's been using him as its meatpuppet. We don't even know how much of the last seven years he remembers."

Still.

"If he hurts Jay, I'm gonna kill him."

Brian didn't argue.


	4. Part IV

Brian's old house looked dark and deserted as they pulled up in front of it, but that only made Tim more certain they were heading in the right direction. He frowned at the slight twinges of déjà vu as he and Brian got out of the car and approached the house. Brian was right; Tim _had _been here before, even if he couldn't remember properly.

Brian made a beeline for the screen door, which was wide open. Either Jay hadn't closed it the last time he was here, or he'd already passed through.

"Hang on." Tim paused to snap on the chest cam and hit 'RECORD'. Brian stared at it quizzically.

"Why?"

"In case we forget," was Tim's only explanation. He didn't have to explain his actions to Brian, not when he still had questions, though he knew he couldn't admit how much he and Jay had come to rely on the cameras to pick up all the things they had missed or been forced to forget.

_And Jay would have wanted him to._

"Flashlights in the trunk." Tim jerked his head to indicate the rear of the car, but Brian shook his head.

"We won't need them."

"Huh?"

"We want to get the drop on Jay, not the other way around. Flashlights will just make it easier for him to see us."

"Okay…pitch black it is, then." Tim squinted, trying and failing to make out anything in the inky darkness. "Great. Not asking for trouble at all."

"It'll be fine."

"Yeah?" Tim shot Brian a suspicious look. "You sure about that?"

Brian met his gaze steadily but didn't reply. They wordlessly turned back to the house. Brian took the lead as they entered.

Tim didn't know how long they crept across the trashed floor, passing shreds of paper, dirty mattresses, and crooked picture frames. They cleared the entire first floor without any sign that anyone had been by in months. Tim wasn't sure if that was reassuring or unnerving.

"That leaves upstairs," Tim whispered. A slight chill ran through him but he ignored it. "I'll go first. You stay here in case he tries to bolt –"

"No," Brian interrupted. "We're faster."

He moved nimbly up the stairs, scaling several steps at a time with almost inhuman grace. Tim guessed Brian had let his…_other him_…take the lead. Still, he wasn't going to leave Jay to Brian's mercy, not until Brian could be trusted for certain. Tim moved slowly up the stairs, eyes straining against the murky shadows.

A muffled _thump _from just above made him jump.

_"Jay,"_ he hissed. Spurred on by the sound, Tim abandoned all pretense of silence and bounded up the stairs.

He caught a glimpse of someone moving toward him and Tim braced himself for the impact, but it never came. A vaguely beige shape slammed into the approaching someone, knocking them to the ground. The two grappled for an instant. Tim couldn't tell who was who, but he figured Brian had found Jay and was trying to subdue him. He wished more than ever they'd brought the flashlights with them and felt around his pockets out of desperation. He stopped when he felt something.

_What?_

It was only when Tim pulled out the box cutter that he remembered pocketing it back in the hotel. He fumbled with the partially open blade as he steadily backed away from the conflict.

Brian yelped in pain or alarm, one of the two, and Tim saw one of the shapes break away from the other. It streaked directly at him.

_Jay._

Tim lurched forward in surprise an instant before Jay smashed head-on into him. The next few seconds were little more than a blur as they both tumbled down the stairs. Disoriented, Tim tried to push himself back to his feet, but he was too winded to move.

The first thing he noticed was that the box cutter was gone. The second thing was that Jay was lying on the ground, hunched and shaking.

_Not good._

"Jay," Tim gasped out between dry coughs. "Jay?"

No response. He pushed on his elbows to move closer, extend a hand, and put it on his friend's trembling shoulder. It jumped away from the contact, likely involuntarily, and Tim snatched his hand back. He could detect the feverish heat coming off his friend in waves.

_Definitely not good._

"Tim?" Brian called from upstairs. He sounded just as out of breath as Tim felt.

"Down here!"

"And Jay?"

Tim couldn't think of an adequate enough response. Ribs aching too much for him to attempt standing, he instead wriggled closer. Jay's back was to him and short of his intense quivering, Tim couldn't see what was wrong.

"Jay, come on." Tim grunted in pain as inched closer – judging by the sharp stabs shooting up his chest, it felt like he'd bruised a rib or two – but didn't halt. "Jay!" He grabbed his friend's shoulder again, more firmly this time, and rolled him onto his back. Jay immediately tried to push him away, but winced in obvious pain, and Tim soon realized why: Jay was bleeding.

_The box cutter._

Tim bitterly wished he hadn't gone rummaging through the hotel cupboards.

"Come on." Tim registered that Brian had somehow gotten down the stairs and was kneeling at his side. He reached out to grab Jay's arm, but this time Jay let out a pained gasp as he shoved him away. Brian assessed the damage with a quick glance, then tersely grasped Tim's hand and pulled him to his feet.

"It's not bad, just the shoulder. We gotta get out of here. Now. You okay?"

"I'll live. But – "

"We'll worry about Jay when we get back. Right now, we – "

"Yeah, okay." Tim knelt besides Jay, grimacing as his ribs throbbed in protest. "Jay?" It was too dark to see anything more than the pale blur of Jay's shirt and skin, but he didn't seem to be twitching in pain anymore. Tim turned back to the faint beige smudge that signified Brian's presence. "Help me get him to the car."

Somehow he and Brian got one arm over each shoulder and carried the semiconscious Jay back to the car. They laid him gingerly in the backseat. Tim didn't feel right leaving him in the back out of his line of sight, but he wasn't sure he trusted Brian to not try anything out of his line of sight either. In the end, he went with the lesser of the two evils and told Brian to take shotgun.

The anxiety that had plagued the drive there was _nothing _compared to the agonizing amounts of worry surging through Tim now. He exchanged neither words nor glances with Brian. The car's interior was noiseless, save for the faint sound of Jay's shuddering breaths.

For the second time that night, Tim pulled into the hotel parking lot and half-dragged, half-carried his friend as quickly as he could through the hallway. This time, however, he had someone else to help. He didn't quite know how he should label Brian yet – friend? Possible ally? Someone not to be trusted with certain information but to be trusted to take care of an injured friend? Tim didn't want to think on it; he had more important things to worry about.

Things such as: _what was wrong with Jay?_ Whatever had happened back at Alex's old house, it had somehow gotten worse since then, which didn't bode well for either of them.

"Got a first aid kit?" Brian asked as they rounded the corner into the hallway.

"Huh?"

"First aid. I think he's bleeding."

"Yeah, in the trunk. Hang on."

Leaving Jay unarmed and helpless with Brian was far from the best idea Tim had ever had, but giving Brian his car keys would have been worse. He retrieved the first aid kit and returned the hotel, almost half-expecting Brian to have vanished. He was slightly confused to find that he hadn't, but quickly shook it off. Brian was the least of his worries right now.

The mostof his worries was currently on the farthest hotel bed, shivering, skin a sickly pallor. Even as Tim set the first aid box down on the bedside table, he could feel the heat radiating from his friend.

This was _very _not good.

"Did this happen to you? Is this normal?" Tim demanded as he began pulling out bandages.

"You think I know?" Brian only shrugged helplessly. "You and I weren't normal to begin with. Jay could be going through something entirely different."

"That's _real _helpful, thanks."

"You think this business came with a manual?" For the first time that night, Brian sounded angry rather than simply annoyed. "You think I have any idea what's going on?"

"You obviously have a better handle on this than we do. You gonna help or not?"

Brian just sighed, shook his head, and grabbed the roll of bandages. Tim stood just behind him, trying to help however he could, but it soon became clear that he was just getting in the way. The firm stare Brian leveled upon him was the clincher, and Tim reluctantly retreated to let him take over.

Tim watched, arms folded and eyes narrowed as Brian worked. He still had questions pressing for attention in the back of his head, but there was one question in particular that took full precedence:

_Is Jay going to be okay?_

Tim was too scared of the answer to dare asking the question out loud. Brian might not even know, and there was probably no way of telling for sure, but all the same…

_No._

Jay was going to be _fine. _

Tim found himself shifting restlessly. He uncrossed his arms and crossed them again, paced back and forth through the room before sitting down on the other bed and crossing his legs and uncrossing his legs and standing up again to pace in a circle this time until finally he forced himself to stand still, leaning against the wall. He wished he'd brought his cigarettes, but he'd left them in the car and he didn't think he could bring himself to leave Jay in this state.

He _hated _this. He hated knowing that he was utterly powerless to help. Tim had spent a great deal of his life feeling powerless for a mix of reasons. When he was little, he was always at the mercy of the hallucinations that plagued his young thoughts and the doctors who used big words and refused to explain what was happening to him. As Tim got older, he grew used to being helpless against his seizures, relying on medication and distractions to keep most of the pain at bay. He had gotten used to being vulnerable to his other half, to Alex, or to that thing that followed him around.

Tim had gotten used to being completely defenseless.

And he loathed the feeling more than anything else in the world.

He felt his fists tighten and his jaw tighten as the memories rushed past. Tim forced himself to unclench his jaw and relax. Getting frustrated over the past wouldn't help Jay.

"He'll be okay for now."

Tim was grateful Brian's back was to him – that way, he didn't see the flash of relief that crossed Tim's iron expression or the way he flinched sharply in alarm that his unspoken uncertainty had been answered, if temporarily. But Tim couldn't relax fully.

"How okay? Is he…?"

"I don't think he's a threat to either of us right now."

Tim's frustration boiled over. "What does that mean?" he snapped. "He'll be okay, right? He's gonna be fine?"

Brian opened his mouth, paused, and closed it again. He slipped his gaze away from Tim, glanced to one side, and began to speak –

_"Don't," _Tim ground out abruptly. Brian's face spelled out the answer well enough.

Tim didn't want to hear it.

So Brian didn't.


	5. Part V

Almost everything was blurry, but some of it was weirdly in-but-out-of-focus, like the zoom blur on a camera that couldn't decide which part of the frame deserved the most attention so it was caught pulsing between dark and light, sharpened and faded.

The word _"camera" _felt weirdly important, but Jay didn't know why. Maybe it was something he'd forgotten.

Had he forgotten something?

He couldn't really remember much, come to think of it.

The realization should have felt like a bad thing, but everything was too hazy for Jay to care. There was something in his memory about a house and flashlights and Tim and coughing and a tall skinny thing, but all the pieces were jumbled to the point where it all felt like some nonsensical dream.

His arm hurt.

_That _bit wasn't a dream, he was fairly sure.

Jay groaned and felt his eyes open, and his fuzzy, incomplete thoughts dissipated as his world suddenly re-rooted itself firmly within the tangible _there-ness _of reality.

_There-ness _apparently came with a free dosage of pain, burning in his head and throbbing in his arm, and Jay wanted to groan again, but his throat was parched and dry, as if he hadn't had water in days.

Maybe he hadn't.

The first pangs of fear shot through him. That fear only intensified when Jay tried to push himself into a sitting position but found that his left arm was hurting too much to support any of his weight.

"Tim?" he whispered tentatively.

No answer.

His surroundings were dark. All he knew was that he was in a room of some kind.

Jay started to call out to Tim again, but his unformed words dissolved into a rough, hacking cough that sent tremors through his entire body. Pain rippled through him with each shuddering cough.

"Jay!"

A silhouette fumbled toward him. Jay heard a short rustling noise, and the room was flooded with grainy light. The sudden brightness caused surges of color to momentarily blind Jay's light-starved corneas. He cried out in pain and quickly covered his eyes with his good arm.

"Hey, hey, you okay?"

Someone's hand was on his shoulder – his uninjured shoulder – and Jay was fairly sure that someone was leaning over him. He didn't want to uncover his vision to see who, not while his eyes still ached with the pain of having to adjust so quickly.

"Tim?"

"I'm right here."

Jay slowly dropped his arm and opened his eyes. The transition from dark to light sent sharp stings through to his already aching head, but the pain wasn't as great this time. The pulsing myriad of colors ringing his vision gradually faded until everything finally snapped into focus. Tim was leaning over him, brow furrowed with concern.

"You okay?" Tim repeated.

To reply, Jay struggled to sit up, but he began to feel light-headed almost instantaneously.

"Easy, okay? You've been out of it for a while."

Frustrated but too tired to make any further attempt to sit up, Jay leaned back onto the bed again. "How long is 'a while,' exactly?"

"Couple days." Tim didn't meet his eye as he muttered the answer. "And some…stuff has happened since then."

"Like what?" Jay demanded. He hated not being able to stand to emphasize his point, even if he was the shorter of the two of them and it wouldn't have made much of a difference anyway. He'd spent a great deal of the past four years getting used to the feeling of helplessness, and he'd just about had enough of it.

But before Tim could answer the question, Jay caught a glimpse of someone moving just behind him. A someone clad in a pale brown hooded jacket with a familiar frowning facemask hanging limp in one hand.

_"You!" _Fueled by a wild surge of anger, Jay tore to his feet and charged headlong at the hooded man. He got halfway toward him before his legs simply refused to stop working and gave way beneath him. The floor rushed at him, but Tim quickly caught him and halted his fall.

"It's okay!" Tim hissed, supporting Jay as he pulled him upright. "He's okay! He's helping us!" He had to physically restrain Jay to keep him from bullrushing the intruder.

Jay didn't want to hear it. Adrenaline and fury pushed back the flood of pain that came with moving so quickly. It took him several minutes of fruitless struggling before it registered with him that the hooded man wasn't wearing his hood anymore. He wasn't even wearing his mask.

"You…" The fight in Jay died, replaced with dazed shock. "You're…Brian?"

"Hey, Jay." Brian looked uncomfortable, almost shyly apologetic, as he said it.

Tim didn't look surprised either. He only met Brian's uneasy gaze steadily.

"Tim? You knew about this?"

"I only found out yesterday," Tim conceded. "While you were still out of it. He helped me find you and get you back to the hotel, okay? That doesn't mean we have to trust him, not yet."

"Found me?" _What else couldn't he remember? _"What do you mean? What's happened?"

"What do you remember?" Brian broke in. Jay snapped around to glare at him and tightened his jaw, refusing to answer. When Brian frowned at his lack of cooperation, Jay glanced at Tim. Tim nodded encouragingly.

"Um…" The memories were still cloudy. "I remember a house. Alex's old house, I think. And we found some papers or something, right? And we…we went into the basement and something happened, something weird. And then…" That was when things got hazy beyond the point of recognition. Jay shook his head to clear it, but to no avail. He switched his attention back to Tim, panicked. "I don't remember!"

"It's okay," Tim said quickly. He helped Jay sit back down. "You're fine now, okay? You're fine."

"Why can't I remember? What happened to me?" Dread crept though him. He already knew that his memory was spottier than he wanted to admit, but if Tim was telling the truth, then he was missing several _days _from his head. At least when he'd lost seven months he'd had the tapes as hard evidence to confirm what he'd missed. This time…

This time anything could have happened.

And seeing as Brian was standing right in front of them, confessing to being their hooded pursuer, it looked as though "anything" had gone right ahead and happened without him. Jay turned desperately to Tim for a full explanation.

"Tim, plea –" His words were cut short as his body seized up in another coughing fit. Jay was dimly aware of Brian starting toward him and Tim motioning for him to stay back. Tim stayed at his side even as Jay shook with the tremors of dry, harsh coughing.

"Here." Someone pushed a water bottle into his hand and he accepted it, sloshing down a good half of the bottle in one go. His throat no longer burned with every swallow, and his head was beginning to feel a little less light.

"Thanks," Jay gasped out between pants. The series of coughs that had racked his body had left him feeling oddly exhausted. He glanced up and noted with some surprise that Brian had been the one to hand him the water. As if to reply, Brian only shrugged, nodded, and retreated back to his corner.

The coughing attack left Jay with a hopeless mash of conflicted feelings – gratefulness regarding Brian's intervention, suspicions of his presence, and relief that Tim had apparently stayed and watched over him the whole time he was out of it. To mask his confusion, Jay took the opportunity to drain the water bottle as he thought of something to say.

"So, uh," Jay began hesitantly after a lengthy (and thoroughly awkward) silence. "What happened to me? Why can't I remember anything?"

Brian and Tim exchanged glances. Then Tim slowly stood and faced Jay, who tried not to think too much about why his expression was so solemn. Finally, after yet another stretch of grave silence, Tim spoke:

"A lot's happened."


	6. Part VI

ay's head was buzzing as he sat in the passenger seat of Tim's car. Tim and Brian were busy throwing their meager luggage in the trunk whilst arguing over how the driving would work. They'd argued all the way from the hotel room to the parking lot as they checked out that morning. Tim wanted to leave Jay's car temporarily to throw Alex off their tracks, seeing as Jay was hardly in a fit state to drive. Meanwhile, Brian was insisting that he could be trusted enough to follow Tim in Jay's car instead of just abandoning it.

Jay didn't care for either of their arguments. He was still trying to wrap his head around everything that Tim had told him about last night, including…

_Including how he had attacked them._

Trying too hard to remember what he'd done caused him to get dizzy and feel like the world was slowing down, like it wasn't really even there. Already, twice this morning he'd been struck with the realization that he may have to live with this for the rest of his life, and the thought had nearly caused him to collapse again.

Jay wondered if this was how Tim felt, every day of his life.

That only made him feel even worse.

Reality came rushing back with the slam of the car door as Tim got into the driver's seat. His jaw was set in a moody grimace as he stared angrily out the windshield. Jay followed his glare to see Brian standing next to Jay's car, arms crossed.

"So…" Jay didn't want to breach the clearly uncomfortable topic, but his past experience in road trips with Tim told him that his black mood wouldn't improve with time. He played with a hole in the seat's upholstery to avoid eye contact. "Um…what's gonna happen now?"

"Brian wants to take your car."

"Oh."

"Is that okay with you?"

Jay looked up again, startled. "Why are you asking me?"

"It's your car. You should probably decide what happens with it."

"Oh." _Duh. _"Makes sense," Jay chuckled uneasily. "Can't I just dri –"

The frosty glower Tim aimed at him cut the question short prematurely.

"Okay, so I _can't _drive," Jay sighed, slumping back into the seat dejectedly. "And you want to let Brian take my car and – I'm assuming – follow us?"

"_I _don't want to let him. _He _does."

"You don't think we can trust him to follow us."

"I know we can't. He's always managed to get away from us before. We don't know what he's even been doing these past three years. I just don't think it's a good idea.

"Well…what if _we _followed _him?" _Jay suggested hesitantly. "He'll have a harder time getting away from us that way."

"Are you okay with him driving your car?"

"Well, I…I don't have much of a choice, do I? It's that or leave it for Alex to find."

"Fair enough."

Tim had to go rummaging through their luggage to give Brian Jay's car keys (he told Jay he shouldn't tire himself out and left before Jay could point out the absurdity behind that sentiment when he would literally just be getting the keys and walking ten feet over to Brian). Jay resigned himself to lie back in the passenger seat, eyes closed. Focusing too hard on any one thing still made him feel sort of dizzy and nauseous, and he wanted to avoid that feeling as much as possible. He only opened his eyes when Tim slammed the car door a little harder than he should have, then grumpily started the car.

"Do you know where we're going?" Jay asked timidly after five solid minutes of muted, baleful quiet.

"No," Tim replied shortly.

"Does Brian, do you think?"

Tim half-shrugged.

"You still don't trust him?"

"Do _you?"_ Tim challenged, meeting Jay's inquisitive gaze fully for the first time that day.

"He did help you find me that night. And he's…sort of been really helpful ever since."

Tim didn't respond immediately. It was clear this was still a touchy subject with him, and Jay thought he knew why. He would be angry too if his only friend he could ever remember having turned out to be a secretive, likely mentally unstable sociopath who had been manipulating them for years…

_…oh._

Jay tried very hard not to think about Alex Kralie.

Their listless conversation dwindled into silence, the two of them caught up in their own separate recollections of their respective nightmarish memory lanes.

Even though they left the hotel in the morning, the sun was just beginning to slink down toward the horizon when Tim pulled over. Jay, who had been dozing in the passenger's seat for the vast majority of the day, jerked awake when the comforting hum of the engine suddenly faded. He cast a quick glance at Tim and was startled to see how tired he looked. It made sense, Jay realized guiltily, when he remembered that Tim had been driving for essentially the entire day. The other man's eyes looked dangerously close to bloodshot, and he rubbed one hand at the dark circles underneath his eyes more than once.

Jay got out of the car with Tim and tried to stand, but he immediately felt light-headed as he did so. Tim hurried to his side before Jay could chalk it up to being disoriented from being half asleep almost all day. The excuse died as Tim helped him lean against the car for support; Jay knew it wouldn't have fooled either of them.

Brian looked odd in the beige-brown hooded jacket that Tim and Jay so closely associated with their elusive, occasionally antagonistic pursuer. He didn't seem perturbed in the slightest as he approached them.

"We're almost halfway there," he told them. "But you both know well enough by now that going through this area at night isn't a great idea."

"Halfway where?" Jay queried.

"This area?" Tim asked at the same time. "What do you – are we back in Rosswood?"

"We're not far from that area," Brian explained. "And we shouldn't go any closer. We'll have to take a longer route to get around the park, but it's several days of driving and you two look exhausted. It's best if we find someplace to lay low for the night."

"Isn't, uh, isn't Alex in this area?" Tim looked visibly uneasy as he mentioned it. "Last I saw, anyway."

"That's why we're staying as far away from there as we can get. I think there's a hotel nearby."

"Great," Jay mumbled under his breath. "More hotels." He didn't intend for anyone to hear him, but he could have sworn the quick look Tim cast him was partway sympathetic and partway amused. Jay always had trouble sleeping in hotels – more trouble than usual, anyway, and Tim knew that all too well. They had long since lost count of the times Jay had woken Tim at 4 A.M. with his nervous pacing or the sound of him muttering in his sleep. Lately Jay had tried to move to the bathroom or the balcony whenever he woke up in the early dark hours of the morning to avoid disturbing his friend, but eventually Jay would return to their room to find that Tim was already awake and smoking. The two never spoke in those secluded hours of darkness, but simply sat in their own isolated corners of the room and appreciated the company.

Right now, though, Jay didn't think he would have any trouble sleeping tonight. Despite having been mostly asleep for most of the day, he still felt dead on his feet and, even though he didn't want to admit it, rather faint (though the latter was probably from lack of food). Jay realized neither he nor Tim had eaten since that morning, and he couldn't remember seeing Brian eat anything at all.

"You get us to the nearest hotel, then," Tim told Brian. "We'll follow you."

Brian looked as if he wanted to say something else, but his gaze hovered a little too long over Jay's hand, which was gripping the car door handle a little too tightly. Jay was desperately struggling to keep himself upright without making it look like he was putting too much effort into standing. He knew he was failing miserably when Brian's eyes flicked back over to meet Tim's and they traded a short nod before Brian returned to Jay's car.

"Come on." Tim unlocked the car without taking his gaze off Brian. "Let's get to someplace safe."

"Do you think a place like that exists?" Jay asked dryly. He wasn't entirely sure if he was making a poor stab at humor or simply commenting on their less-than-desirable situation, but the sadness in Tim's expression made him wish he hadn't said it. Like it or not, Jay had been right.

There was no guarantee that any of them would ever be safe again.


	7. Part VII

Jay went out like a light as soon as he had dropped his luggage and practically passed out on one of the beds. One quick scan of the room told Brian that Tim hadn't bothered unpacking either. Luckily the room they'd rented had a small, uncomfortable-looking sofa, so Brian knew he would have at least a place to lie down and pretend to sleep.

Tim didn't seem to be putting any effort into hiding his still-present animosity toward his old college friend but so far Brian had avoided reacting to his passive aggressive behavior. The reasons behind it were doubtless a particular topic in a sea of uncomfortable topics he would frankly rather stay away from for as long as possible.

Brian was hungry in a vague sort of way, in the sense that he was so used to being hungry now that he knew he could go another day or two before going off to look for something substantial. Besides, he couldn't think of a non-awkward or non-passive aggressive way to broach the subject to Tim. There was also the small issue that he had no supplies at all – no money, no food, nothing aside from the small handheld he kept with him. He didn't think Tim would take kindly to the fact that he'd been living off stealing for the past couple months at least. It had gotten hard to keep track after a while.

Regardless, Jay was asleep now, which meant Tim was probably going to grab some rest soon too. Tim locked the door and seeing as he hadn't given Brian a key to get back in, Brian knew he might as well be a prisoner. He didn't understand why Tim was going to all the trouble - now that they'd found him and uncovered his identity, there was no point int going back into hiding now.

"Hungry?" Tim asked unexpectedly. He sounded less ruffled than yesterday. "Usually Jay and I grab something before checking in for the night."

Brian only shrugged. "I can go another couple days myself. You?"

"Right now?" Tim scrubbed at his tired face with his hands. "I just want to sleep for a week." He looked over his shoulder at Jay, who was curled on top of one of the beds. He hadn't even taken off his shoes before crashing. "I guess that's not an option, though."

"We can take shifts," suggested Brian. "I swear I won't run off…for however much that promise is worth."

"Look, Brian." Tim's body language said he wanted nothing more than to avoid this matter of discussion. Brian felt the same, but it was a rather large elephant in the room that they'd had trouble evading since day one. "I want to trust you. I wish I could, but –"

"I get it." Brian pulled the black ski mask from his pocket. "There's this."

"Yeah."

Pause. A long pause, filled with the awkwardly scratching the backs of necks and the inspecting of fingernails to avoid making eye contact. Brian knew they would have to address it sooner or later - there was no way they would ever be able to work together properly if they didn't - so he took a deep breath and tried his best.

"Look, I…I don't know how to explain everything, and I think you think I know a lot more than I actually do."

Tim frowned. "Um, what? Brian, it's almost midnight and I haven't slept or eaten in the last ten hours. You're going to need to be a little more coherent."

"Uh…I don't know as much as you think I do?"

"Then start by telling us what you _do _know. We're all in this together now, so you might as well."

"You're acting like I know what's going on here. I don't. I was caught up in this just like you were, and I've been going it alone ever since."

"Why alone, though? Why not just come out and find us instead of hiding behind a mask all the time?"

"I don't know!" Brian's voice got perilously near breaking point. A vicious mixture of frustration, regret, and weariness was surging through him and he had no idea how to articulate it. "Because I was scared? Alex found out who you were behind the mask and look how that turned out for you!" Brian jabbed a finger at Tim's leg. He saw Tim shift uncomfortably, doubtless recalling the surging pain that came with waking up in his car miles from home with a headache, a bloody nose, and a severely broken leg. "I was just trying to help in the only way I knew how. Eventually it stopped mattering. Alex found out anyway."

"So why didn't you just tell us?"

"I…" Brian suddenly found his shoelaces to be much more fascinating. He scowled at the black ski mask he still held limp in his hands. "…_he _didn't want me to."

"And you let him have his way?"

"There's a lot going on up here, okay?" Brian rapped at the side of his head with a clenched fist. "And it's hard to think straight if there's too much happening at once. Sometimes I _need_ to make compromises to keep everything quiet. It's the only way we can work together."

Tim subsided into dejected silence. As the minutes dragged on without comment, Brian thought he would just end the conversation and be done with it.

But then Tim looked at Brian dead in the eyes and asked one question Brian would never have expected him to ask:

"Do you think Alex can be…you know, saved?"

There were a lot of aspects to the answer to that question. Brian never considered that Tim had ever particularly cared about what happened to Alex. After all, it had only been a few days prior when Tim had been swearing he'd kill Alex if he laid a finger near Jay. Even before any of this had started, Tim and Alex had never been close. They'd just happened to meet through Brian, and even then they didn't always get along. Brian remembered Tim complaining about the "genius" of Alex's script.

_It felt so long ago. _

And it had been long ago. It had been before faceless monsters, before cameras and tapes and pills and endless running. It had been before all of this. Brian had been in the middle of "all of this" for so long it felt as though he had done nothing else his whole life.

It seemed more and more likely that Alex Kralie was to blame for all of this, and it had all started with Tim complaining over Alex's stupid movie script.

If Brian had never introduced the two of them…

He cut that line of thought off at its head. He didn't want to think about it. It wouldn't make any difference now. Besides, Tim was still looking at him expectantly.

Brian couldn't think of an answer. He'd debilitated too long for him to avoid answering the question, so he decided on the truth.

"I don't, uh…I don't think so."

Tim nodded a bit to himself. He'd probably assumed as much. His eyes flicked back up to meet Brian's, and there was an undercurrent of fear in them this time.

"What about Jay?"

Again, Brian was at a loss for words.

"What?" he stalled.

"Is Jay gonna be okay?"

Again, there were several possible responses to that one, but Brian couldn't imagine that Tim would like any of them. The note of desperation in the other man's voice as he'd asked – but not demanded – for the answer, the way his voice had almost cracked as he's said it, gave Brian pause. Tim had already been broken a dozen times since they'd last parted ways. He was already so close to breaking again.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so."

So Brian decided to lie.

* * *

_end_


End file.
